


Of Providence and Necessity

by ShinigamiSlingby



Series: Mixed One Shots [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And Francis is an immortal traveller, Arthur is part of the king's guard, But an attractive man is pointing a sword at him, English civil war mentions, M/M, Mild Threat, he has no idea what's going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinigamiSlingby/pseuds/ShinigamiSlingby
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Series: Mixed One Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703086
Kudos: 11





	Of Providence and Necessity

Around the 17th century (The period of the English Civil War) Unspecified location, Britain

The forest was vast and thick; Francis simply knew that he was going to get lost. He had fled from his own country on a sub-par naval ship, disgusted at their blatant provocation of Britain, a few years ago. This happened many times in his lifetime but he was simply sick of it- these thoughts had been brewing since 1337 but he never acted upon them. The country of choice was questionable- they hated him and his countrymen- but he adored the vast forests. 

Even in spite of the hatred he felt from this land. Every country has its crosses to bare.

"Who goes there?" a voice echoed through the sparse canopies. A heavy rustle of the hedgerow came next. Francis panicked- it was most likely a thief or a murderer. He had no weapons to defend himself with but, then again, not many weapons could actually harm him. Francis tried to ease his nerves by thinking of this- to no avail. Although he held dearly to this fact-and that his death would only be temporary- the death is excruciatingly painful. 

"Answer me!" the man growled, standing up from his hiding spot. He must have seen me a while ago then. The man had a battered redcoat and a knife pointed to Francis "Who are you?"

"Your weapons do not work on me, so please step away." Francis attempted to speak calmly. His hands shook as he tried to find something that would be even considered as a weapon.

"I know what that means Frenchman- unfortunately for you, I am an immortal also. This weapon was made by me and therefore you are about to die." he spoke curtly, with a raised eyebrow.

"You're immortal?" Francis tried to divert the strangely beautiful man from his anger. Francis studied the man for a moment- trying to take his mind away from the painful "death" that he may encounter, sooner rather than later.

He was average height, perhaps a little on the tall side. His blond hair was thick with dirt and it was stuck up in many different directions. He was dressed in the venitian red and white jacket- something that sparked interest in Francis.

"What regiment?" Francis was desperately trying to make conversation with the scowling man- and war seemed like the favourable topic right now.

"I am of the Lord Wentworth regiment. Not just any regiment, I'll have you know." he scoffed "we are probably the last regiment to still be loyal to the rightful king." 

"I see. My mistake. As you can see, I am not from around here." Francis sighed, finding it odd to be talking openly with a British soldier- especially in the middle of a tense period between their home countries. Not forgetting their own issues. But surely he wasn't participating; why would he be in the middle of a forest if so? Shouldn't he be off in some county, waging war? His king is in peril and he is out here on his own.

"How come you are here then? Shouldn't you be fighting?" Francis simply asked, hitting a sore spot with the smartly dressed man.

"Why do you need to know Frenchman? That is my business and not yours!" he growled, raising his knife once more, this time to Francis' throat. Clearly he wasn't armed in the manner of an infantryman anyway- a knife wouldn't really work against a musket. 

"I was merely asking." Francis weakly defended, he didn't want to get on the wrong side of a soldier of any kind- having no practice in any form of fight. 

"I was walking and got lost- my regiment left without me. Or so I have been told. I came back to the camp and found them missing, I came back here to think. Then I found you." he rolled his eyes and dropped his knife. "I was on my own until I saw you. My name is Arthur"

"And mine Francis. Thank you for being the kindest soldier I have ever met." apart from her. 

"And thank you for being the nicest Frenchman that I haven't killed, yet." Arthur replied; a brief smile lining his radiant, but dirt covered face. Francis felt the pang of something familiar in his heart- even if the man just subtly threatened to kill him.


End file.
